Murderer
by The Flame and Hawk's Eye
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is willing to do everything in her power to protect those she cares about... Even if that means taking a life. Edward Elric, however, does not see things the way she does. Parental/Friendship!RizaEd. Two-shot.
1. Edward's Point of View

**A/N: **_Here's that one-shot I had talked about recently in _Pressure Point_ regarding a time in which it was believed Edward hated Hawkeye. I wanted to note that it can also be read as a standalone._

_I am writing this about his naïveté when he sees someone's life taken for the first time in his life. This takes place about a month or so after he is assigned to Roy's team, so he's still only twelve years old._

_Anyways, enjoy this little Parental/Friendship!RizaEd piece!_

* * *

><p>"Edward, stop!"<p>

No way in hell was he going to stop. This was his first mission with Mustang's team where something a_ctually _happened… and he wasn't about to just sit back and watch.

It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission in order to gather information on a group suspected of selling illegal weapons to Aerugo. Little did they know they'd be greeted by nearly three times the men they had brought; the enemy completely armed and ready for them.

It would be a while before reinforcements would arrive. Not that they would need them though.

Another surge of adrenaline rushed through Edward's veins as he clapped his hands together and slapped the ground, producing three pillars that propelled three would-be attackers back and away from him. He couldn't help but smirk at his prowess. They _definitely _did not need those reinforcements…

Dodging and dipping effortlessly through the chaos, Edward caught a quick glimpse of Colonel Mustang (aka Colonel _Bastard_) fighting off two assailants. Both of them had abandoned their guns and were fighting the Colonel hand-to-hand. From what the report said, these men preferred it.

However… Mustang wasn't using his gloves; his hands were, for once, bare.

Oh yeah, that's right… The air was far too muggy and humid to even produce a spark. _I bet he didn't even have time to grab his gun_. His smirk widening, Edward inwardly decided, _Eh, I'll help him out._

As he sprinted forward, Edward saw Mustang's body turn toward him, his eyes scanning around for any sign of assistance. However, when they fell on Ed, they widened. Clapping his hands together, Edward prepared to slap them on the ground when Mustang's eyes grew wider, his face contorting in distress as he opened his mouth to yell.

Suddenly Edward felt a sharp pain in his side, followed moments later by a massive force crashing into him. Hitting the ground with a heavy thud, he managed to look up just in time to see one of their adversaries standing above him, one foot on his automail arm and the other crushing his chest.

Edward squirmed in vain, desperately trying to get away, but to no avail.

He was trapped beneath him. Stuck.

As the man sneered down at him and began to move his arm out from behind him, a flash of blue and blonde caught Edward's eye.

When he registered who it was, a sense of relief flooded him, though only for a fleeting moment.

The comfort he felt abruptly disappeared and was instead replaced with a mix of horror and dread.

It seemed as if time slowed to a crawl, and yet his mind was still functioning at a breakneck speed.

He could only watch, frozen, as she slowly raised her arm.

The man, only now registering her presence, had begun to turn toward her… But Edward knew that it was too late.

He watched as those once kind brown eyes narrowed in on their target.

He tried in vain to scream, but his throat tightened up and his voice caught in his chest.

_Stop… What are you doing?!_

The man's head was turned completely toward her now, his dark eyes widening in realization as the barrel of her handgun greeted them.

And her eyes… He didn't even recognize them anymore.

They were cold-blooded.

Ruthless.

Merciless.

A killer's…

Edward suddenly felt his voice return to him.

He could feel his vocal cords reverberating; feel the air rush from his mouth as he screamed.

But he could not hear it.

…And by then it was too late.

He saw the man's body stiffen momentarily before it ceased all function. His eyes followed him as he crumbled to the ground.

The body hit the pavement with a dull thud, his head lolling toward Edward.

In that moment Edward's stomach lurched and his eyes widened as he stared into the man's lifeless eyes, watching the blood drain from the gunshot wound inflicted on him spill out onto the concrete floor.

_He didn't deserve this… He… He didn't!_

His view was obscured when the face of the one that had taken the man's life entered his field of vision; the cold and ruthless eyes he saw moments earlier now filled with concern and compassion. Her lips were moving but they weren't producing any sound. Feeling something brush up against his cheek, he realized that she had placed a hand on it, her mouth still moving silently.

But he didn't believe it for one second. That man was unarmed… Defenseless…

"Murderer," he sputtered as a surge of disbelief filled his gut.

"Edward," she asked, leaning in closer and attempted to touch his face again.

Batting her hand away from him, he cried out, "Don't touch me you… you cold-blooded _murderer_!"

With a gasp, Hawkeye pulled her hand away and sat back, her mahogany eyes widening in pain.

But he didn't care… He didn't believe it for one second…

* * *

><p>"Edward…"<p>

The young blond boy lifted his head numbly and rotated it to look at the source of the voice. Narrowed, obsidian eyes caught his dulled, golden ones.

Edward watched detachedly as Mustang sat down next to him and began to speak, but he was no longer listening; instead allowing his head to hang down, resting his chin against his chest.

Suddenly he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and felt his body turn. He reluctantly lifted his eyes, once again staring into blackness.

"Edward, you need to go and talk to her."

At the mention of _her_ a surge of rage flooded him, forcing another bout of tears to begin welling up in his eyes. Whipping his head up sharply, his eyes burning, he snarled, "No!"

"Edward," the Colonel snapped forcefully, "You have to-"

"I don't have to do anything," he shouted brutally as he jumped up from his seat. "I don't have to listen to you! I don't have to apologize to _her_," he seethed as he clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists, the tears he was holding back now flowing freely down his cheeks. "And I sure as hell don't need this!" Digging into his jacket, he grabbed his pocket watch and flung it at the Colonel.

Too furious and upset to even wait for a reaction from Mustang, Edward turned on his heels and began to storm toward the exit.

But as he was about to throw the door open, he heard Mustang shout, "So you're just going to run away and quit the second someone does something you don't agree with?"

Whirling around to face the now standing Colonel, Edward yelled, "I'm not running away! I'm just going to find a way to get our bodies back _without _becoming a murderer!"

"Without that 'murderer' you wouldn't even _**be **_here to get your bodies back any other way," Mustang flared back as he closed the distance between them and grabbed Edward's shoulders.

Swallowing his bitterness, Edward shrugged off the man's grip and turned back to the door and began to open it when Mustang hissed, "You almost died today Edward and instead of being grateful, you've decided to condemn the one person that saved you."

"Bullshit," Edward growled as he pushed the door open.

"Is it bullshit that the man also had a gun in his hand," Mustang retorted hardly. "Is it bullshit that he was this close to shooting you where you laid?"

Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, Edward snapped, "What are you-"

"He had a gun in his hand, _Fullmetal. _He was about to kill you," Mustang elaborated bitterly. "Without the Lieutenant's quick thinking, you would be dead and Alphonse would no longer have an older brother."

"No he didn't… He-"

"I _saw _it, Fullmetal. It was behind his back. And the Lieutenant saw it too."

Feeling the swell of hatred in his chest begin to deflate, Edward stared at the man incredulously. After finding his words, he gasped, "He-he wouldn't have killed me. I'm just a kid; I'm only twelve-"

"Do you think he actually c_ared_," Mustang replied sorely, "Because as far as he was concerned, you were just another military dog that needed to be put down."

"He was… He was going to kill me," Edward asked as he was smacked with realization. "He was going to kill me… I-I almost _died_!

"And Al… He… He wouldn't get his body back!"

Feeling hands once again grasp his shoulder; he stopped and looked up to see the Colonel's pained expression. "I know, Edward… And that's why I'm asking that you go and talk to her because she's just as rattled about this as you are. I think it will be good for both of you."

Taking a deep, shaking breath and feeling the last ounces of hatred and loathing leave his body, Edward hesitantly nodded.

* * *

><p>Scanning around the darkened room, Edward did not see anyone at first. The unused office was simply that: abandoned and empty. As he began to turn and walk out, his eyes caught something blue near the room's back corner. Tentatively taking a step toward it, he realized that it was indeed the person he was looking for.<p>

Taking quiet and cautious steps toward her, he saw that Hawkeye was leaning back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her elbows rested atop them and her face buried in her hands. A towel was draped over the top of head and shoulders, concealing her identity completely. But he knew it was her. Because despite not being able to see her face, the way she seemed to still hold herself screamed that it was no one other than the Lieutenant.

She didn't flinch when Edward sat down next to her, remaining as still as stone.

Neither one said anything; sitting in complete and total silence as the minutes dragged on.

No longer able to take it anymore, Edward nervously cleared his throat and murmured, "I'm sorry…"

He heard her shift but he was too afraid to look at her, fearing he would be greeted with a cold and spiteful gaze. He knew that by the way she had moved that she was looking at him. But he couldn't look back… He wouldn't…

"You don't have to be sorry, Edward," she murmured in response.

Her voice was… Not what he had expected.

It was kind and loving. It was the same voice that would annoy the hell out of him every time she directed it toward him. Now, however, it didn't sound so bad.

"I… I shouldn't have said that," he elaborated, still fixing his gaze on the floor in front of him. "It was inappropriate and disrespectful and completely uncalled for." Feeling a tightness forming in his chest, he could feel the tears he had shed when he realized Al could have been left alone begin to form again. "I-I just reacted. I di-didn't realize what co-could have happened; what al-almost happened."

He heard her shift again, but he was too absorbed in his thoughts to even process it. Suddenly he felt her arm drape around his shoulders and pull him closer to her.

While comforting, the gesture again only reminded him of what he had said and what could have happened, opening the floodgates.

Burying his face into the padding on her shoulder, his breath hitched and he began to sob.

This only led to her pulling him closer, inadvertently causing him to cry harder.

He didn't know how long they remained there like that. It could have been mere minutes or it could have been hours. All he knew was that she never let go, remaining with him until he could no longer produce any tears and had resorted to hiccupping instead of breathing. Finally, when he was able to catch his breath, he gasped and exhaled slowly as the episode died down.

Now that the shock had worn off, he was left feeling embarrassed and ashamed. This wasn't how it worked in the military. You couldn't just break down like that… And into the shoulder of an officer you had just labeled a murderer nonetheless.

He wanted so badly to get up and leave; to never return to this place again. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be here… Maybe he wasn't cut out for this… He'd still be able to find another way to get Al's body back, right?

As he contemplated whether or not he should make a break for it, Hawkeye spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you feeling better now?"

He paused for a moment. No, he didn't. He would never feel any better. He couldn't do this…

He shook his head 'yes,' but when she shifted to look at him, he knew she could tell he was lying.

He didn't want to look up, but he knew he'd have to face her eventually. And when he did, instead of the loathsome glare he had expected, he was met with a saddened, compassionate expression.

And that's when he realized that she had been crying too. Or, at least, at some point she had. He could see that her mahogany eyes were still reddened and her cheeks slightly puffy, though it appeared that her tears had long been dried.

Her eyes wandered over to his and caught them. After she searched them for a moment, she softly said, "It's okay to feel the way that you do, Edward. I don't blame you." When she saw that he doubted her, she continued, "You know… I reacted the same way you did when I was first shipped out. I was on the battlefield less than five minutes when I saw someone felled right in front of me."

Edward would have thought it to be impossible if he didn't see the tear-stains on her face. Imagining the ever stoic and disciplined Hawkeye break down and cry was almost too difficult to imagine.

Swallowing the bolus that had begun to form in his throat, he muttered, "I… I just don't think I'm cut out for this… I just don't think I can do it… Take someone's life."

"And I would never expect you to." When he looked at her in surprise, she expanded on her explanation. "I did not have the luxury of deciding whether or not I could take a life; it was simply expected of me.

"As it stands right now, you have that choice. You may not always have it; you may someday be faced without one. But at this moment, your hands are clean and I will do everything in my power to make sure they stay that way. I _want _to see you and Alphonse get your bodies back and I _want_ to see you two live long and happy lives."

"It still doesn't erase what I said," he objected as raised his sleeve and wiped his eyes.

"You're right. It does not erase what you said," she agreed, "But that doesn't mean I don't accept your apology. Like I said, Edward, I understand why you said those words.

"If anything, I should apologize for allowing you to be put in that position. Had I been there sooner, he may not have decided to follow through with what he was intending to do."

Forcing back a shudder as the memory began to push at the back of his mind, Edward shook his head. "But you didn't know what would happen until at that moment. I understand now why you did what you did…" He trailed off, losing himself in silence once again.

She in turn did not press him further by asking questions, instead allowing him to lean into her shoulder again in silent understanding.

After giving himself a few more minutes, he felt well enough to stand. When she felt him shift, she retracted her arm in order to let him get to his feet.

Once he was up, he whirled around and tried his best to shoot her his signature smile, extending his hand to her as he did so. When she accepted it, he helped pull her to her feet.

As the two made their way back toward Mustang's office, Edward finally let everything sink in.

He didn't have to leave. He could stay and continue to fight in order to reclaim Al's body and his… And he could do so without having to take a life.

Glancing at the seasoned soldier that strode beside him out of the corner of his eye, Edward realized that if she of all people believed it, then it was truly possible.

And as long as he had her support, he would do everything in _his _power to make her proud.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Hope you enjoyed! I hope that the end doesn't seem too rushed and that I conveyed their mutual understanding through both words and actions. I enjoyed writing this piece and might even expand on it a bit and include a chapter from Riza's point of view. But, we'll see._

_As usual, constructive criticism and/or kind words are always appreciated!_


	2. Riza's Point of View

Riza Hawkeye had blood on her hands.

So much so, that it was dripping…

* * *

><p>"Edward, stop!"<p>

When she had heard Havoc yell, Riza's focus immediately went to the young blond boy that had dashed recklessly into battle. Turning back to the men she had been dealing with, she fired a few more shots: one shot into a man's shoulder and the other into one's kneecap.

As she turned her attention back to the boy, she was horrified to see that he had been pinned beneath one of them.

Leaving her cover, she promptly threw herself into the fray, ignoring the bullets that whizzed past her and grazed her. Because right here and now, her only focus was the boy and the man that towered above him.

As she closed in on him like a predator upon prey, her eyes were drawn directly to the shining black object in the hand he had pressed against his back. When she opened her mouth to command him to stop, he began to draw it out behind him, his wild-eyed stare honed in on the boy that struggled frantically beneath him.

She knew that look all too well…

As she skidded to a stop mere feet from him, she raised her gun in conjunction with his.

At that moment that indiscriminate man became everything to her.

Her focus.

Her drive.

Her prey.

Riza narrowed her eyes as he turned toward her, a mixture of madness and surprise painted across his face. Yet, despite her presence, his arm still rose slowly to point the object in his hands at the young boy beneath him.

When he had turned fully to face him, his feral eyes now resting on her, she heard a scream resonating through the air, begging her to stop.

But it was too far past that point to back down now.

Because the threat _had _to be eliminated.

Moments after she pulled the trigger, the man fell, his life gone before he hit the ground.

Now that the threat was gone, Riza tossed her gun to the side and fell to her knees in front of Edward. His widened, shocked eyes seemed to stare through her for a moment before focusing on her face. As she reached up, she murmured his name over and over again.

At long last he looked her in the eye, his golden eyes reflecting disgust and resentment as he muttered something under his breath.

"Edward," she asked, leaning in again to place a hand on the boy's pallid cheek.

Slapping her hand away, the boy hissed, "Don't touch me you… you cold-blooded murderer!"

* * *

><p>She had been called many things before…<p>

Monster.

Demon.

Killer.

Murderer…

If she could pick, she would much rather prefer being called a monster or demon; because at least monsters and demons were not predisposed to killing.

So when she heard that young, innocent boy utter _that_ word, it brought everything crashing back down on her.

When he had opted to return to headquarters in the other car, she could not help but feel relieved. After that display, she was confident the young boy would not want to be in her presence.

Upon returning to HQ, the Colonel insisted that she get checked out by their ward's nurse.

Normally she would fight him tooth and nail. Any abrasions on her body had merely been surface wounds; nothing a bandage and antiseptic couldn't fix. This time, however, she immediately obeyed and briskly made her way to the medical ward.

Just as she suspected, physical wounds she received were all superficial. The nurse was quick to prescribe her an antibiotic and send her on her way.

Her physical wounds would soon heal, but her emotional ones were a completely different story.

Riza hadn't realized that she had deviated from her path until she found herself standing in an empty office. She was now alone with her thoughts.

And at that moment, it hit her.

It was the first time since the war that she had killed someone.

She killed someone today… and it wasn't because of an order.

She had done it of her own volition, of her own choice. She _chose _at that moment to extinguish the flame that was that man's soul.

_Murderer…_

The young boy's voice was quick to reenter her mind. It stung. It burned.

_Murderer…_

Leaning heavily against the wall, she raised her hand to cover her eyes and bit back a sob.

_Murderer._

* * *

><p>She did not raise her head when she heard a set of steps, one footfall louder and heavier than the other. There was no need to. She knew who it was.<p>

When the young boy sat down next to her, she remained silent, just as he did. Riza knew why he was there, but there was no need for him to be. He did nothing wrong.

After she had shed a few tears, she forgave herself. Either way a life would have been taken. In that single sliver of time, she was in control.

And she chose the one that meant more to her. She did not, and would never, regret this.

After clearing his throat, Edward murmured, "I'm sorry…"

She reached up and pushed the towel she had draped over her head back over her shoulders in order to look at him. In that moment, the way he sat, with his legs curled up to his chest and his eyes down on the ground, he looked so vulnerable and… small.

"You don't have to be sorry, Edward," she replied softly.

He shook his head back and forth and said, "I… I shouldn't have said that. It was inappropriate and disrespectful and completely uncalled for…" He paused for a moment to collect himself, though it was clear the task was proving to be difficult. "I-I just reacted. I di-didn't realize what co-could have happened; what al-almost happened."

The shock he was feeling was evident; his voice quivering and his body shaking as he spoke.

He was confused, hurt, scared; everything a twelve-year-old boy _should_ feel in such a situation.

Removing her arm from her side, she gently reached up and around him, laying it across her shoulders.

The boy's body shuddered and his breath hitched. A moment later, he turned toward her and buried his face into her shoulder, a sob erupting from his lips.

Riza responded by drawing him closer, rubbing small circles on his shoulder as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

The two of them remained there like that for nearly ten minutes, and Riza dared not move an inch. She would stay with the young boy for as long as he needed.

Finally Edward's sobs were quieted, replaced instead by small hiccups and gasps as he tried to catch his breath. When she felt that he had calmed down enough, she whispered, "Are you feeling better now?"

The youth paused for a moment, and then quickly nodded his head.

She knew that he was lying, however. Despite what the young boy thought, he was exceptionally easy to read.

He seemed to catch on that she knew he was lying, because a moment later he raised his head to look at her. And when her eyes met his, Edward's brows raised, as if in surprise.

"It's okay to feel the way that you do, Edward. I don't blame you," she said softly. His eyes flickered with doubt, but she had to make him understand. "You know… I reacted the same way you did when I was first shipped out. I was on the battlefield less than five minutes when I saw someone felled right in front of me."

It was true. It seemed that as soon as she stepped off the transport vehicle that had brought her there, a greater force _forced_ her to witness her first violent death.

When she saw that civilian fall, watch the life drain from his eyes, she panicked. Dropped to her knees and threw down her gun. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take a life!

But when the gunman responsible approached her, he had grabbed her roughly beneath the arm and thrust her gun back into her arms and told her to 'suck it up. This was war.'

But his eyes… His cold and ruthless eyes were all that she saw.

She didn't want to be like him. Didn't want eyes like his. She couldn't take a life!

But here she was, now a seasoned killer comforting a broken boy.

A broken boy that mirrored herself.

"I… I just don't think I'm cut out for this… I just don't think I can do it… Take someone's life," Edward hiccupped as he wiped his eyes.

She could tell him to 'suck it up.' Get over it. It happens. This is the military!

But what good would that accomplish…? What good would it do to continue this vicious cycle of denial?

She could change it, though. She could stop this madness… With him.

"And I would never expect you to."

Edward's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"I did not have the luxury of deciding whether or not I could take a life; it was simply expected of me. As it stands right now, you have that choice. You may not always have it; you may someday be faced without one. But at this moment, your hands are clean and I will do everything in my power to make sure they stay that way. I _want_ to see you and Alphonse get your bodies back and I _want_ to see you two live long and happy lives."

He closed his mouth for a moment and then opened it again. Raising his sleeve to his eyes yet again, he argued, "It still doesn't erase what I said."

"You're right," Riza agreed. "It doesn't erase what you said. But that doesn't mean I don't accept your apology. Like I said, Edward, I understand why you said those words.

"If anything, I should apologize for allowing you to be put in that position. Had I been there sooner, he may not have decided to follow through with what he was intending to do."

The young blond shook his head and sniffled. "But you didn't know what would happen until at that moment. I understand now why you did what you did…"

Understanding his silent desire to regain his composure, she sat back and kept her arm draped around his shoulder. As he leaned into her, she too leaned into him, taking comfort in this display of forgiveness.

After a few minutes she felt him shift. Pulling her arm away, she watched as Edward got to his feet and whirled around, shooting her a big and toothy grin. Extending his flesh hand toward her, he gestured for her to take it.

When Riza accepted it, he pulled her to her feet and the two of them headed toward the door.

She saw the boy steal a glance at her as they made their way back toward the Colonel's office. When she was sure he had looked away, she too glanced at him. And as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, she made a silent vow to herself: To protect this boy and his innocence for as long as she physically could.

* * *

><p>She remembers the expression he wore when she handed him her gun. His younger brother Alphonse was quick to point out that it was a tool for killing and ruin, though she was quick to correct him, saying that it was a tool for <em>protection<em>.

She could see the pain in his eyes as he struggled internally with her description of the object in her hand. But after deliberating and considering it, he agreed to take it, pocketing it as he did so.

Now here he was, sitting in front of her as he recounted everything that had gone down. She listened intently as she dismantled the gun and soaked it in oil, silently taking note that a few bullets were missing.

He admitted that he had fired a few shots, but he "couldn't" shoot anyone… He couldn't pull the trigger, even when his friends were in danger. He had chastised himself, calling himself pathetic as he explained that his lack of resolve always caused trouble for those around him.

Edward went on to describe how he and his friend Ling found themselves in the belly of that beast they had fought at the safe house.

Pathetic, he kept on saying. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Riza was quick to correct him. He was by no means pathetic, simply berating himself only because he made it back in one piece. She told him that, despite struggling under his burdens, he needed to continue to live for those that he loves.

The gun only added to his burden, it seemed, and for that she was truly sorry.

When he had considered her words, she saw as he worked up the courage to ask her. She knew it was coming, for it was only a matter of time before he asked. So when he did ask about her burdens, she showed no sign of surprise, blatantly telling him that she herself had no right to complain about the weight she carried on her back. It was _her _and _only _her that chose the path she embarked on.

Again he grew quiet, thinking carefully about what he was going to say next. Then he asked her about Ishval; the Colonel had outright refused to whenever he asked.

Riza was brutally honest. Had he asked this years ago, she too would have dodged the question, or at least lightened the blow in some way. But she knew that he had grown, and she knew that it was something he could handle.

So she told him everything she knew, leaving out no detail.

And she had been right… To an extent. He _did_ handle it well, but did not understand when she told him that they would be deemed criminals of war the moment Amestris became a democracy.

He argued with her and begged her to reconsider that notion. Didn't she want a happy life as well?

Of course she did. There wasn't a day that went by where Riza didn't think about living a long and happy life with the man she loved… But this was the burden of her generation. If they had to carry it on their backs to prevent his generation from suffering, then they would do it.

She had been quick to change the subject after that, reminding him to worry about himself and his friends. She, like many of the people they knew, was eager for the two siblings to reclaim their bodies.

After that, the two of them chatted idly, leaving the subject of Ishval in the back of their minds the entire time. And when it was time for Edward to leave, she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, which she attempted to rectify with a simple smile.

After gaining her assurance that she'd be careful and a wave later, he turned on his heels and made his way down the hallway.

But before closing the door, Riza lingered and leaned against the threshold, watching as he left. She could not help but notice how much he had grown since he first joined the military, noting his slight increase in height and the broadness of his shoulders.

And the way he carried himself was so unlike the cocky yet vulnerable young boy that she had first met three years ago. He had become so much more confident, and yet he himself did not realize it.

As her eyes lingered down to his hands, she could not help but notice how clean they were.

With a content sigh, she stepped back and closed the door, locking it once it had clicked shut. After turning back around to face her box-filled apartment, her eyes immediately went to the gun she had left on the table. Walking over to it, she grasped it and held it up, examining it. When she found a stray spot of blood, she scratched at it with her fingernail, chipping it away bit by bit.

It was easy to remove blood from a gun. Her hands, however, were a different story because…

Riza Hawkeye had blood on her hands.

So much, in fact, that it was dripping…

But Edward… His hands were still clean.

And for that, she could not be more proud…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_So that ends this little two-shot piece. Hope you enjoyed!_

_To those of you that read _**Pressure Point**_, there was a line in there that foreshadows something that will happen in the final few chapters. Just food for thought ;D_


End file.
